loving our authentic (and multiple) selves
a bite-sized q&a with children's book author jonathan merritt
I am an evangelist for alternative loves to romantic love — even as I am as basic as they come in my love for the rom-com. (Watching the new Bridget Jones movie this week is a non-negotiable.) When it comes to love, we must allow ourselves such apparent contradictions, even when the dissonance discomfits.
It was Jonathan Merritt who made a way in the publishing world for my own book about how friend love, rather than familial love, is considered the highest form of love (agape) in the Christian tradition. Two years later, he wrote his own ode to an under-celebrated kind of love in a children’s book called My Guncle and Me.
To be gay and Christian. To be feminist and flexible. To be neuro-rigid and novel. To love your children and wish you’d never parented. These are the contradictions Jonathan invites us to see not as contradictions but wholeness. Wholeness is a virtue for any Valentine to hold, no? May you love the wholeness in yours this year.
Erin Lane: What is your favorite thing about being an adult?
Jonathan Merritt: I feel like there is only one right answer to this question. It's getting to set my own bedtime. I was home recently for Christmas, staying at my parents' house. About 11 pm the first night, I was watching television in the living room. My dad walked by and said, "I think you should probably go to bed, son." And I turned around and said, jokingly, "I can go to sleep when I want. You're not the boss of me." It was funny at the time, but also true. Choosing my own bedtime is my favorite part of being a grown-up.
Erin: You wrote a book, My Guncle and Me! Tell us! What shitty script were you trying to tear up?
Jonathan: My Guncle and Me is my attempt to tear up several shitty scripts, but I'll name just one. I grew up in the 1990s in the Deep South and was raised by an evangelical TV preacher. I was given a script at an early age that said a person could either be a Christian or gay. A person could not be both. This is a terrible script because if a person is forced to choose between practicing a particular religious tradition or loving one's authentic self, then the religious tradition will have to go. Lots of queer people have de-converted because they were given this script.
Erin: Okay. Now flip it. What truer, weirder story did you set out to write instead?
Jonathan: I decided that the main character in my story, Henry, would encounter a better story. So I created a guncle [gay uncle] to model that it is possible to hold together multiple identities even if it makes others uncomfortable or angry. There's a scene in the book where the guncle and Henry go to church, and it says this:
At church the next morning,
My guncle sings loudly.
He prays and gives thanks
And he does it devoutly.His bright colored outfit
Makes two women stare.
When we pass, they both snicker,
But he doesn't care.
Erin: Writing—and, well, life in general—is about the threat of resurrection. What was the scariest thing about bringing this book to life?
Jonathan: For me, it was scary to write in a new form. I love this book, and I've been pleased by all the positive reviews it has received. But when I started this project, I was not an expert on children's literature. I didn't know how to tell objectively if I had written a great children's picture book or a mediocre one. Additionally, by the time my book was released, America was engulfed in a vicious debate about whether children should even be allowed to read books with queer characters or themes. Books like mine are being boycotted and banned from libraries and bookstores. I knew I would receive some hate on social media, which of course, I did.
Erin: Publishing a book is a shiny milestone! What is something less shiny about a life well-lived you’re celebrating this week?
Jonathan: I won't speak generally here, but rather, I'll speak about my life. I happen to live in New York City, which is the greatest city in America for about 10 months a year. During January and February, it's the worst city in America. Once the Rockefeller tree is thrown into the wood chipper and the confetti in Times Square has been swept up, the city is nothing but dirty slush and dark skies and temperatures that make most outdoor activities impossible. I tend to get stir crazy and a little seasonal depression. But this year, I've purposed to recognize the gifts of this season. I'm going to try to practice wintering, which means drinking lots of hot tea and making tons of soups and stews. It means cozy nights curled up on the couch with a book and sleeping late on Saturdays and building lots of fires on my back porch in my chimenea, which may or may not be legal in New York City.
P.S. Want to celebrate Jonathan for doing his work and sharing his story? If so, consider joining me in donating to the American Red Cross, directing funds to victims of the Los Angeles fire or wherever they are needed most.
P.P.S. Curious about other children’s books that rewrite the script on love? Some of my favorites include: Morris Micklewhite and the Tangerine Dress by Christine Baldacchino, When God Made You by Matthew Paul Turner, and Like So by Ruth Forman.
P.P.P.S. How are you practicing holding (and loving) your own multiple identities? Tell me your tiny kazoos (a.k.a. tiny victories) in the comments.